


We Walk in the Shadows of Giants

by Pokebob



Category: Ben 10 Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Character Death - Ben Tennyson, Future Fic, Gen, Non-Human Omnitrix bearer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2018-11-30 03:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11455371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokebob/pseuds/Pokebob
Summary: Inspired by a recent thread on 4chan's /co/ board.It's been 200 years since the death of Ben 10,000, and the universe has not gone down a happy path. Ben's son Ken has died in a freak Omnitrix malfunction. With no other heirs to claim ownership, Azmuth has taken his creation and hidden it away. Earth, once the up and coming hub of all intergalactic activity by proxy of being home to the Hero of the Universe is now paranoid and xenocidal thanks to over a hundred years of aliens invading in an attempt to find the Omnitrix in its last known location. Unable to keep one measly planet safe from raiders and general neer-do-wells, and with no rallying point like Ben 10K to keep the hope alive, the Plumbers have long since disbanded.Now, however, Professor Paradox has come calling, with a warning to the creator of the universe's most powerful device. It's time to return the Omnitrix to the public eye, and choose a new wielder. Time is running out. Will the new bearer be able to fill the shoes Ben has left behind, or will they be doomed to languish in the shadows of a giant?





	1. Chapter 1

The laboratory was quiet. Not surprising given the ungodly hour that the First Thinker found himself working at. Every sane person had left – gone back to warm homes, loving families, and comfortable beds. And here he was, at 3AM, in a barely lit work room, tinkering with yet another one of his projects. What else was there to do?

Three hundred years ago, he could have called upon his protégé. Benjamin Tennyson would have answered the call, despite the unusual hour. They probably would have gone and done something frivolous, something so absurd and childlike that it would have been unthinkable for a Galvan of his age and standing to participate in. Ben wouldn’t have cared though. That was just his nature. The human would have dragged him out and ‘forced’ him to do it anyway. It was one of the things he missed about his old friend.

But three hundred years is a long time for a human, and Ben was a long time gone. Two hundred and fifty-seven years gone. His grandfather Max had died even sooner than that. Sure, Gwendolyn was still around, and likely would be for quite some time. Probably until either something killed her, or else she slipped into depression and allowed her mind, and her mana, to drift back into the aether from which it originated. Such was the way with energy beings. Kevin Levin was still alive, though certainly getting on in years. Osmosians typically lasted about five hundred years, which gave Kevin another hundred and fifty or so before anybody had to start making funeral arrangements. Azmuth made a mental note to get in contact with him sometime soon. It was all too easy to let a century pass for someone of his species. He didn’t want to let somebody ELSE die on him without having a chance to say goodbye.

“Sulking about in the dark again, are we?” An all too cheerful voice broke the dead silence of the lab. In another lifetime, such a disturbance would have startled him. Now however, it seemed to be just another nuisance in his life. He didn’t bother looking up from his work when he replied.

“What do you want, Time Walker? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Ah yes, yes. Of course you’re busy! You are always busy. Between crafting wondrous devices for the betterment of the universe, and teaching classes for the betterment of the future, it’s really quite a wonder that you have any time at all for feeling sorry about yourself for the detriment of your state of mental health.” The eternally cheerful tone of the Time Walker’s voice was underscored by the biting truth in his words.

“I’m not going to ask you again. What. Do. You. Want?”

“Oh, honestly. I’ve been coming here enough lately that you ought to know exactly what I want. It’s TIME, Azmuth. You must find another wielder for the Omnitrix.”

“And I’ve told you, there isn’t anybody worthy of wielding it. And believe me – I’ve been looking! For two hundred years I’ve been looking! There just isn’t anybody who can fill the shoes that Tennyson’s left behind.”

Professor Paradox sighed. He must have had this conversation a hundred times in this timeline alone. Not to mention all the OTHER timelines he’d had to speak to. It was all getting just a little bit irritating, despite knowing exactly how it was going to turn out. He gently plucked the diminutive inventor from his seat, ignoring the indignant protests, and placed him atop on observation platform closer to human eye level.

“I need you to listen to me, old friend. Time is not on our side with this one. You need to make a decision, and make it sooner, rather than later. Benjamin Tennyson was one of a kind. You will NEVER find another person capable of filling his shoes the way you expect them to be filled. You need to find somebody with potential, and allow them to grow into the sort of person the universe needs them to be – not the replacement for Ben that you WANT them to be.”

Azmuth opened his mouth to argue, then promptly shut it again. Deep down he knew the Time Walker was right. Ben HAD been one of a kind. And even if there was by some miracle, an exact replica of him out there somewhere in the universe, it was unlikely that he’d ever be able to locate it. Not even he was capable of interviewing every life form in the galaxy. He paced the observation platform anxiously.

“So what do you propose I DO? Originally, before we ever knew Ben existed, the Omnitrix should have gone to the best Plumber for the job. I would accept such a plan again, even without the possibility of another happy accident. But the Plumbers have been disbanded for over a hundred years. All the short lived creatures have already died, and the long lived ones have moved on in their lives, gone on to bigger and better things. There’s nobody left.”

“Oh, come on now, chin up! You’re a smart man. The smartest, if I recall correctly. Surely you can think of SOMEBODY who might have what it takes to use your creation wisely.”

“You speak so cheerfully, with such optimism. I take it you already know my decision, even if I haven’t come to it yet.”

“Naturally.”

“And you’re not planning on making my job any easier, are you?”

“If by that, you mean I’m not going to just give you the answer, and tell you what to do, then yes. I’m afraid you’re on your own with that. You know how I feel about spoilers.”

The elderly galvan rubbed his eyes in frustration. Of COURSE, Paradox wasn’t going to tell him. It wasn’t in his nature to interfere with the time stream in such a way. Simply telling him who he was destined to choose could be disastrous for the space time continuum, causing miniscule ripples due to altered expectations. It wasn’t worth the risk.

“Give me more time then. You said that I would be able to think of somebody who can use the Omnitrix properly, yes? It follows then, if that’s the case, that the next wielder will be somebody I’ve already met. Well, I’ve met quite a lot of individuals in my lifetime, and it will take me some time to sort through them all. Figure out which ones are dead, which ones are evil, and which ones might – MIGHT – be able to be the replacement we need, rather than the replacement I want.”

The Professor smiled. It wasn’t always easy winning an argument with a Galvan, as they quite frequently believed themselves to know all the answers. It didn’t help that they usually DID know all the answers. Fortunately for the fate of the universe, however, Azmuth had mellowed out considerably in his old age, and in no small part to his experiences with Ben.

“Alright. You have three days to come up with somebody. We absolutely cannot wait any longer than that.”

“Three days! That’s hardly enough time to begin thinking about this challenge, let alone complete it and give you a name!”

“I’ve told you already. Time is not on our side. And I ought to know.” The immortal took out his pocket watch, and gave it a quick glance. “Oh, dear me, just look at the time! I’m running late again. I really must be going. Remember what I said, old friend. I will see you again soon!”

With that, the Time Walker disappeared, leaving Azmuth alone in the work room, and feeling more frustrated than ever. Three days? How was he supposed to come up with somebody to be the savior of the universe in only three days? It just didn’t seem possible.

And yet… doing the impossible was something that humans seemed to do with alarming regularity.

Professor Paradox unraveled the secrets of time and space. He knew more about it than any Galvan ever could, even more than the celebrated First Thinker himself. Benjamin Tennyson had saved the universe more times than anybody cared to remember, even when everybody else said he would fail. Of course, the Omnitrix helped, but Ben had done plenty of good even at times when he couldn’t use its powers. Likely a trait passed on from his grandfather Max, another human who had no business doing half the amazing things he did. And yet somehow, even without any special racial traits or abilities, he still managed to do all those things, and more.

It really was a pity that Earth was no longer a friendly place for alien visitors. It would have been nice to have another human as the wielder, another creature filled with hope, and determination, and incessant frivolities. He sighed and shook his head. If nothing else, he didn’t have to think about any of his contacts on that miserable blue rock. All the people he knew from there were dead, and the current populace was too afraid of aliens to attempt any contact.

Azmuth didn’t blame them for their current state. Others certainly did, but he couldn’t. Not when it was his fault to begin with. He could have done many things differently to spare them their fate, but there was no changing the past. After Ben died, Earth was overwhelmed with alien conquerors and bounty hunters, all seeking the Omnitrix. Of course, they never found it. Nobody would ever find it. Azmuth had it hidden away in a place so impossible to get to that even HE wouldn’t be able to retrieve it by himself.

But that didn’t stop the invasions. With no clue as to where the Omnitrix could possibly be, every glory hound in the universe started their quest at its last known location. Sadly, that was Earth. For over one hundred years, the humans had to endure an onslaught of villainy and scum. And in less than fifty years, all the progress Ben had made as Hero of the Universe evaporated. As it turns out, having to constantly defend one’s home from alien invaders tends to make one just a little bit paranoid and xenocidal. Now no aliens were welcome anywhere in the entire solar system, and any foolish stragglers found themselves blasted to smithereens, or else captured, and thrown into prison to rot for the rest of their miserable lives.

The clock struck 4, and let out a subdued chiming sound. During the day, it was quiet enough to not disturb researchers with their work. It was a much different story in the middle of the night, where it sounded loud enough to wake the dead. Before Paradox arrived, Azmuth had been filled with the sort of restless agitation that occurred when there was a problem he didn’t know the answer to. Now, however, he was exhausted. What a difference one short conversation could make. Perhaps a small nap might clear the fog from his brain and bring him clarity. It wasn’t likely, but it also wasn’t healthy to go three days without any sleep either. Reluctantly, he wandered down to the med bay, and laid down on one of the hospital beds, leaving a short three-bulletin note for the morning doctors taped to the door. It warned them that he had merely stayed too long tinkering with his work, and opted to sleep there than make the journey home in the dead of night. They were to wake him up at 6:45 AM, and no later, so that he would be able to make it to class on time. And under no circumstances were they to lecture him about the effects of exhaustion on one’s body. He didn’t need to hear that drivel from the doctors. His own body yelled at him for THAT little biological need every day.

Who knew? Perhaps he WOULD find a suitable replacement for Tennyson within the next few days. It wasn’t going to be easy. And Paradox was right – that person would NEVER be Ben. It didn’t take the greatest mind in the universe to realize that.

But maybe, just maybe… somebody would come close.


	2. Garden Argument

At 8 AM sharp, 300 Galvan students took their seats and looked expectantly at the door. By 8:20, all 300 of them had started panicking. Nervous chatter filled the auditorium. Where was their teacher? Azmuth was never late. He was often irritable, and more frequently exasperated by his young charges, but had never once been late to teach a class. One or two brave souls decided he wasn’t coming at all, and left. It was, after all, the very last session of class. 

By 8:25, somebody finally got the bright idea to call the central medical center. 

At 8:37 the auditorium door slammed open, and one very cross looking Azmuth stormed down the corridor and up to the podium. He slammed down his things onto the table behind it before addressing the room.

“You’ll all have to forgive me for my tardiness. I left strict orders for a wakeup call this morning, and as you can tell, received no such thing.”

A chorus of voices rang out. All of them were forgiving and encouraging, telling him not to worry about it, that things happen, and that hey – it was the last day of class anyway. For a normal teacher, this sort of reaction would be indicative of a wonderful student-teacher bond. For Azmuth, it was a nasty reminder of the sort of people he had in his life these days. All too willing to ignore flaws, and let them fester into nastier sorts of things. The sorts of people who would gladly allow him to destroy everything in his path if only to gain a glimpse into the inner workings of his mind. Those kinds of yes-men were exactly the sort of people he DIDN’T need wielding the Omnitrix. Speaking of which…

“Right. We all know why you’re all here. The real reason you opted to take this class instead of the myriad of others offered by professors who hold far lower standards than I.” 

At this, every single body in the auditorium snapped to rapt attention. It was true. Nobody took a class with Azmuth because of his people skills, or the ease of his coursework. Indeed, fewer than 10 percent of all students enrolled in his class ever wound up passing it. But despite the difficulty level, and the inevitability of failure, the First Thinker always found his classes filled to capacity, and with a waiting list a mile long. There was only ever one reason that students kept signing up.

“The Omnitrix.”

A large holographic facsimile popped up next to the podium. Excited whispers wafted across the room.

“This is by far my most well-known creation throughout the universe. I don’t believe there is a single person alive who hasn’t heard of it, and for good reason. Under the control of human Benjamin Tennyson, my Omnitrix was used to save the universe on several occasions. It restored multiple sentient species not only on the brink, but also PAST the brink of extinction. It has saved more lives and done more good in the hands of one person than the entirety of all intergalactic peace-keeping entities combined.

Those of you who have taken this class before, know that my reasons for creating it were many. Initially, it was to create peace, by allowing one to quite literally walk a mile in the shoes of another species. I had hoped that allowing somebody to experience life through another creatures’ eyes would allow them to cultivate empathy and understanding.

Later, I realized the Omnitrix could also be used to store genetic information needed to restore a species. This feature was first envisioned to bring back species that had been pushed to extinction, though later it would be used to restore broken DNA and heal genetic maladies. If you had paid one lick of attention, you’d know this function ended the Highbreed War.

There are, of course, other reasons, more personal ones that I am not willing to divulge. Those reasons will travel with me to my grave. But to leave it at that would make this a very short last day of class. So, let’s get down to business. Who has questions?” 

Instantly, nearly every hand in the room shot up.

“How many species do you have stored?” “What do you use for a power source?” “How do you get around the inevitable loss of power over such long distances?” “How do you prevent the transformation process from causing any lasting damage?” “What INSPIRED you to create such a device?”

The questions were the same as they always were, and Azmuth made another mental note to write down the most popular ones and post them on the door to his office. With any luck, it would cut down on the number of students wanting to enroll in his class. Although, that assumed that he decided to teach another one after this. If the universe really WAS in danger, he certainly didn’t have time to waste with grading papers and fielding ridiculous questions from nosy layabouts.

Eventually, the clock struck 11AM.

“And that concludes this session, and also, this class. You may all come up and collect your final exams. Those rare few of you who actually managed to pass may accompany me to the back garden to celebrate. The rest of you know the drill. Get your things and get out of my sight.”

Azmuth collected his things and departed quickly, ignoring the many groans of disappointment and angsty whines from those unfortunate souls who hadn’t passed. It was their own fault, really. He’d been teaching this class for over forty-five years. One would think that by now, people would understand that this was an extremely difficult course, and that he required nothing less than perfection if they wanted to pass it.

The back garden at the college was one of the few spaces on Galvan Prime where one could find uninterrupted solitude. Its creation was a requirement for Azmuth’s decision to teach there, and the college had been forced to purchase several other buildings and demolish them in order to make room for it. For their troubles, however, enrollment shot up, as did donations from alumni. 

Already, a few students were milling about in the garden. Castal and Scionil sat under a flowering tree, arguing passionately about something, while Fermat, Rithme, and Gryllis stood awkwardly around a table laid with food and drink. A lone Mechamorph puttered around, setting up chairs around a table.

“It seems every year I find fewer and fewer students deserving of coming back here.” Azmuth remarked, taking a seat at the portable table.

“That’s because every year your class gets more difficult.” Rithme chuckled, choosing a seat on the opposite side of the table, and motioning for her acquaintances to join them. “I ought to know – I’ve taken it four times already.”

“And yet somehow you’ve managed to pass it each time. Why DO you keep taking my class, anyway? I could understand taking it a second time, given that you only just passed it the first time by the skin of your teeth. But after that, it seems like you’re just wasting space. You already know the material, regardless of how difficulty I may word the exam questions.”

“Oh, you know! I just find the subject matter SO interesting, and every time I take it, I learn something new! It’s worth going again if I learn something new, even if it’s just one –“

“Cough – Buttkisser – cough”

Rithme whirled around and glowered over at the source of the offender. “Do you have something to add to this conversation, Scionil?”

The younger Galvan gave a cocky grin as he strode over and took a seat, whirling the chair around to straddle it backwards. “Sure. I can add lots of pertinent information to this conversation. Like… how about the fact that you only keep taking Azmuth’s class because you hope he’ll remember you when it comes time to hire somebody else for the oh-so coveted position of “Lab Assistant”. Or how about the fact that you accidentally-on-purpose lost over a dozen other applications to give yourself a better shot at getting in. Oh! I know! How about the fact – “

“That’s enough Scionil.” Azmuth chastised. Scionil’s face fell slightly. “I am well aware of how the rest of this ‘conversation’ will go. And rest assured, these are the exact reasons WHY Rithme hasn’t been accepted for a position in the lab. You don’t need to rub it in.”

Rithme’s face went ashen gray. She stood up suddenly, knocking her chair back. It clattered noisily to the floor, and in another instant, she whirled around and stalked out of the garden. Nobody tried to stop her.


	3. Chapter 3

A day and a half came and went in the blink of an eye. Thirty six hours into his task, and Azmuth still didn’t feel any closer to finding anyone suitable for the task of “Savior of the Universe”. He paced the floor behind his desk anxiously. Who to ask, who to ask? Should it be somebody who had experience with the Omnitrix or somebody who was barely cognizant of its existence? Would a friendly face be the right choice, someone willing to accept his guidance? Or was it better to choose someone more antagonistic, able to stand by their convictions and do the right thing? The Time Walker’s words hung heavy in the back of his mind. If he didn’t come up with his choice soon, karma was going to drop somebody utterly unsuitable right into his lap.

Despite not actually believing in karma, a knock on his office door came right on cue. He recognized it immediately and felt his stomach drop. _Urgh, no! Not one of them!_

A pair of Galvan squabbled their way through the door and over the battered threshold, each one not wanting the other to get in first. Pushing and shoving, they wound up in a heap on the floor in front of his desk, knocking over a chair and sending stack of papers into the air, still bickering amongst themselves about which one of them ought to carry more of the blame for it. A horrifying vision of Blukich and Driba wearing twin Omnitrixes flashed through Azmuth’s mind, and he shuddered. That would be more than a nightmare to deal with! He’d just as soon send his creation over to Vilgax. At least HE might be able to use it without accidentally blowing up a building or something.

“Would you two kindly remove yourselves from my floor, and explain this most undignified interruption?” Azmuth barked. “I’ve got a very important project I’m working on, and I can hardly concentrate with you two shouting at each other in the middle of my office!”

“Sorry. It’s just – “

“You missed dinner last night! You promised-“

“You absolutely promised that you’d be there!”

“We waited-”

“Waited for HOURS”

Still the two could not keep themselves from interrupting each other, fighting to get a word in edgewise before their partner in crime could do so first.

“Just for you to show up”

“Or call or something”

“You could have called!”

“Luhley was SO mad she left-”

“And now she’s not even answering any of Driba’s phone calls!”

Luhley? Luhley! A sudden flare of optimism lit up the older Galvan’s face. Of course! How could he have been so blind? Luhley would be an excellent choice to use the Omnitrix. She had extensive Plumber training, experience fighting alongside Ben, and an unwavering loyalty towards her people. A friend, yes, but not one who accepted his word blindly without any convictions of their own. Perhaps most importantly, she didn’t harbor any pesky ambitions, the likes of which put options like Albedo right out the window. The perfect individual to use the Omnitrix had been staring him in the face for centuries, and he’d been too stubborn to even consider it. Part of him felt foolish for it, but the rest of him felt lighter and more liberated than he’d been in years.

“Are you even listening to us?”

“I don’t think he’s listening to us.”

“Quick, say something stupid!”

“Your face!”

Before a fresh round of bickering could begin again, Azmuth hurried around to the other side of his desk. He subtly steered Blukic and Driba back towards the door

“I’m sorry boys.” He said gently, guiding them one at a time through it to prevent another pileup. “Normally I don’t forget things, but in this case, I did. I forgot I was supposed to visit last night. Why don’t we try again for tonight? You can tell Luhley I’ll be there at 5. Tell her I’ve got something important to talk to her about too, OK? You boys can handle that. Right?”

“Right!”

For once, an answer given in unison.

When finally, the pair could no longer be heard walking down the hallway, Azmuth plopped down in his over-worn chair and heaved a sigh of relief. It was as if he’d had an iron weight around his neck that had suddenly just been vaporized. He had a lead. Not just a tentative lead, but a good solid lead with somebody who had everything he was looking for. All he had to do now was hope she was willing to give the hero business a shot.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Scionil grimaced and stuffed his PocketComm back into his bag. He wasn’t sure exactly why his parents had to be so hard on him – after all, he’d passed every single one of his classes with flying colors. He’d even managed to pass Azmuth’s class, the cranky old goat. Two weeks on a wait list, three hundred students, no help, and only five of them managed to pass it. His folks should have been dancing in the streets for the amount of work he’d put in to that one just to please them. Instead, they insisted that he go ask for an extra credit assignment.

“I’ll show you extra work…” he grumbled to himself quietly, pushing past a throng of students clustered around the bulletin board in the hallway. Squeezing through the hopefuls, Scionil didn’t even bother to check it. There was never anything new posted there anyway. “Bust my rump, pulling all-nighters… on track to finish two years early! Are you happy? As if…”

But still, a nasty voiced whispered in the back of his mind, a 92% wasn’t exactly his best work. It certainly didn’t measure up to that of his older siblings, none of which had gotten less than a 98% in that class. (And the ones that did still heard an earful from their mother – ‘ _Why wasn’t it 108%?_ ’) He could have done better. He should have done better.

Deep down, Scionil knew asking Azmuth for a higher grade was an exercise in futility. The man NEVER changed his mind on those and seemed to abhor grade-hounds with the sort of disgust that one usually reserved for individuals who felt that basic hygiene practices were unnecessary. Extra credit? Psh, maybe if you wanted to get laughed out of the classroom. On the other hand, if Scionil didn’t at least try, he’d never be able to live it down. It would be one of those stories his uncle brought up at the annual family-get-together when trying to dominate the conversation and prove how his children were far superior to everybody else’s.

Somehow the route to Azmuth’s office seemed shorter than usual. Scionil took a deep breath and knocked on the door. To absolutely nobody’s surprise whatsoever, there was no answer. Everybody knew the First Thinker hated having company. If you wanted to talk to him, it was assumed that you’d have to corner him and hope he didn’t have the Idiot Brigade standing by on guard duty that day. Not to be deterred, Scionil opened the door any way, and poked his head inside.

He wasn’t sure if he should have been surprised or not at the state of the room – papers were strewn about everywhere, and a chair had been overturned. The lone light source flickered unevenly in a corner, the rest the bulbs in the room having long since burnt out. It looked as though somebody had ransacked the place, despite the fact that Azmuth was standing in the middle of the room, calmly and methodically dumping file-cabinet drawers full of paper into the shredder. He didn’t even bother to look at the visitor staring wide eyed at the carnage that used to be his office.

“Well? If you have something to say, then spit it out. If not, then kindly move along. I have a lot to do, and very little time to do it in.”

Oh. Of course he had a lot to do. Scionil rolled his eyes slightly and stepped inside. When didn’t that guy have a lot to do? Despite feeling rather foolish for even having come in the first place, the young Galvan did his best impression of “confident” and rattled off his request just as he’d practiced it in his head. The words tumbled out of his mouth just slightly faster than what could be considered normal.

“Ok, so – I know you don’t typically do extra credit assignments. You think that if a person knows the material inside and out like they’re supposed to, extra work isn’t necessary. After all, if you really understand the core concepts, then tests and papers should be a breeze. And I get that, really, I do. But I feel like some of my papers were graded unfairly, not because of any fundamental misunderstanding of concepts crucial to the course itself, but rather because of differences of opinions on petty issues that have little to do with the work at hand. Clearly, I understand the material, as I was one of the few students that passed the course to begin with, and – “

“Stop.”

The word wasn’t spoken loudly or with any malice behind it, but it was weighted with a quiet sense of command that demanded obedience. Scionil swallowed the rest of his sentence hard.

“I have seen twenty-nine thousand, eight hundred and forty-six students during my time teaching here. Those possessing half a brain and a good dose of common sense dropped out while it was still prudent to do so. Those that did not, remained in the class, and were joined by a new group of idiots. Some of those idiots possessed a suicidal need to succeed, and actually managed to pass my class. They passed it by putting in more effort than is sustainable, not by actually understanding any of the work they did. You, like all the other students who passed my class, did so by simply regurgitating what the books said, and you couldn’t even be bothered to learn WHY the concepts work, let alone HOW. Your grade is final.”

Scionil bristled at the accusations. Not understand the work? Who did that guy think he was? Well, OK, he WAS the First Thinker, and he DID write the books, and pioneered technology that probably wouldn’t have been invented for thousands of years without him, but that was beside the point.

“I disagree.” Scionil knew he had to remain calm, or risk having his passing grade revoked. “I DO understand the work, both the how and the why. And I can prove it to you – just give me a chance! If you give me an extra project, I can give you concrete proof that-“

“What part of FINAL did you not understand? Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got an important meeting to attend to, and cannot afford to be late.”

“But-“

“No. No buts.” Azmuth said curtly, dumping a final fat stack of papers off his desk into the long-since overflowing shredder, and turning his attention to a box of assorted parts lurking in the far corner of his office. “You’ve wasted enough of my time.”

“ _I’ve_ wasted _your_ time? What about all the time I’ve spent? All the hours of self-work I’ve put in because you refuse to give any guidance outside of class? Is my time worth less than yours just because I’m young and haven’t had a chance to prove myself yet? Nobody FORCED you to do this, you know. You decided you were going to teach a class, but then you don’t want to put any effort into your students! If you can’t even be bothered to do the bare minimum, maybe you should stay out of a classroom and stick to your laboratory!”

If looks could kill, the one given to him by Azmuth in that moment could have devastated half the planets in their arm of the galaxy. It was a look of pure unadulterated vitriol, and instantly Scionil knew he’d gone too far.

“Can’t be bothered to do the bare minimum?” The older Galvan repeated, rare anger simmering under a deceptively even tone. He slammed the box of parts down on the desk. “Need I remind you that it was YOU who chose to take the class, despite knowing what you were in for? Need I remind you that my lack of availability stems from the myriad of crises I am expected to find solutions to in order to keep this planet from bursting apart at the seams? Do I really and truly need to remind you that I, and I alone, am expected to shepherd our species through the most difficult time in its entire history?  And here you come to me with a petty grievance over grades – PASSING GRADES, I might add! -  and have the gall to tell me that I cannot be bothered to do the bare minimum?”

Taking a step back, Scionil very much wished he could have been anywhere else right then. He’d never been on the receiving end of one of the First Thinker’s legendary diatribes before, and yet he was still very much aware that this one would have been considered mild. He swallowed in a vain attempt to ease the pain of a tension constricted throat before attempting to defend himself.

“I – well – you – “, his words tangled his tongue in knots, the fumbling only serving to make him feel supremely stupid in front of his teacher. Azmuth’s gaze narrowed in fury, and Scionil searched his mind frantically for some sort of comeback that could possibly redeem him in the eyes of the most important person on the planet. “If- if you have so much on your plate, then… then why even bother teaching the class to begin with? There are trillions, literally trillions of Galvans out there who are unemployed and going stir-crazy from boredom. Any one of them would have given their left foot to have a respected and interesting job like that. Even if they couldn’t be employed full time, they’d still kill to even be able to assist you, like, grade papers or answer silly questions for you so you could get real work done. You- you probably don’t even have to be the only one to save the world! Nobody is expected to be an island, not even you. If you let people help you you’d probably have enough time to do stuff like sleep at night or – or maybe even eat at a table instead of trying to multitask while you’re taking a leak!”

It was as though suddenly a switch was flipped in his professor’s face. The anger suddenly melted away, replaced by a sort wistful look, the kind typically reserved for fond memories.

“You know, Luhley often said something very similar to me. That I shouldn’t try to take on the problems of the universe by myself. She often offered her help, and like a fool, I always rejected it. It was always just faster and easier for me to do it myself, you see. But I suppose that wasn’t really helping as much I thought it was, was it?”

Scionil did his best to look attentive and concerned, despite not knowing who or what Azmuth was talking about. He stood at a respectful distance, watching warily as the elder absentmindedly rummaged through the box of parts.

“Hmm…” An unusually mischievous look suddenly crossed his face. “I’ll tell you what. In this box is a special project I was working on. If you really do know the material as well as you say you do, you should be able to finish it for me. If you manage to do that, manage to finish this on your own, I’ll give you a perfect grade and a letter of recommendation for whatever career you wish to pursue.”

The color drained from the young student’s face. A perfect grade AND a letter of recommendation? The grade would have been fine, but with a letter from Azmuth himself, there would be no career path unavailable to him! He would be set for life! Scionil hopped to attention, and started to agree, but was quickly cut off.

“Ah~ah! Not so fast.” Azmuth snatched the box backwards and held it just out of his pupil’s reach. “I said I would give you those things IF you manage to finish the project. If you can’t finish it, if you don’t really know the work as well as you think you do, I’m afraid I’m going to have to rescind your passing grade. All that work you put in this past semester would have been for nothing.”

“Well, that’s OK. I can just take it again next semester or something.” Scionil reached for the box again.

“No, I’m afraid that’s not going to work. Something has unexpectedly come up, and I’m not going to be teaching any more. You _did_ notice me shredding all my notes when you came in, didn’t you?” Azmuth peered inside the box at the jumble of parts. “It’s a shame really. If I’m not mistaken, you were hinging quite a lot on being able to use my class as a prerequisite for many of your other classes, weren’t you?”

The joy that had lit up Scionil’s face just a moment ago left just as quickly as it had arrived. If that class wasn’t available anymore, it would throw off his whole schedule. He’d have to take several other classes to make up for it, and it would probably take him an extra year to get back on track. Still… a letter of recommendation from Azmuth was really too good to pass up.  

“I was. And, I still am.” Scionil said confidently. “I’ll take your bet. You’ll see. I’ll finish your project, and then you’ll see. The world isn’t as full of idiots as you think it is.”

“I want you to be very, VERY sure that you want to risk this. I cannot stress enough the consequences that come with this choice. If you fail, I will have no choice but to change your grade for my class into a failing one. You don’t get to change your mind if you take this box and find you don’t know what to do with any of it.”

“I’m sure. I KNOW I know the material. And I know that I’m just as good as any of the assistants you’ve got in your personal lab. I can do this.”

“All right. If you’re sure you’ve made your decision.” Azmuth set the box back down on the desk.

Scionil snatched it up and looked inside excitedly. The excitement quickly faded to mild confusion when he realized there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the parts inside. Nor did there seem to be any blueprints. Indeed, there didn’t seem to be any documentation at all.

“Uhm, sir? You… you didn’t shred the notes that went with this box, did you?”

“No. It was my personal project. All the notes I needed for it are up here.” He tapped his forehead gently and gave the smallest of smug smiles as he pulled on his jacket and headed out into the hallway. “And I’m sure that since you know my methods so well, you’ll be able to figure it out easily once you get it home and take a good look at it. I’ll expect it in my office by tomorrow evening. Have a nice night!”

The lone light finally flickered out, leaving Scionil in near darkness.

“Oh man… how badly did I just screw myself?”


End file.
